


Ownership

by Randy Thrandy (UnshadowedHeart)



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Cheating, Kink Meme, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-02
Updated: 2013-04-02
Packaged: 2017-12-07 07:26:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/745877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnshadowedHeart/pseuds/Randy%20Thrandy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin hated to covet his father's lover, but Thranduil is the temptress of his youth and enables his unhealthy obsession.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ownership

**Author's Note:**

> Filled my own prompt on the kinkmeme:
> 
> Original prompt: http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/6263.html?thread=14402935#t14402935
> 
> Prompt: _So Thrain (or Thror) have a thing going with Thranduil. It's definitely not love, but they're quite obviously involved. They do awkward (almost-)couple things in public like feeding each other food (Thranduil feeling a great prince/king grapes, anyone? Yes? Yes?) and weird things people might be uncomfortable around._
> 
> _Whenever Thorin sees the elf and his (grand)father interacting it makes his blood boil. Because he wants Thranduil like that. He carries a lot of shame, because he should never be coveting his (grand)father's lover and instead he tries desperately to bury himself in a distraction._
> 
> _Unfortunately, Thranduil is not caged by a (almost) relationship and would gladly involve himself with Thorin. In fact, he takes great pleasure in letting Thorin "steal" him from the other dwarf. He loves to rile Thorin up to the point the dwarf is shoving him down and "forcing" him._
> 
> _100% consenting on all sides, tho some play with acting out being 'forced' by Thranduil is totally welcomed. (Extra bonus if Thorin actually thinks Thranduil didn't want it and "ends up" liking it)_
> 
> _+Thorin is incredibly guilty, but he can't stay away despite how he's stealing from his (grand)father, because that's what fucking someone else's lover is; stealing  
>  ++A lot of fighting between the family over Thranduil_
> 
> _Pre-Smaug or No-Smaug AU please!_

Seeing his father with the elf was torture.

Thorin peered out from the doorway, seeing the way that the elvenking draped beside his father, on his side, leaning over with his teasing smirk and his jewelry clinking. The crown of leaves and berries was set aside, and the elf's braids undone, save for the one loose, large pleat in the back. His father had done that, he knew. A mark of ownership. Of course, the elf probably thought it quaint.

He couldn't stand the sight of the elvenking draped out on that bed, his hair wild and laying about him, longer than any dwarf's Thorin knew, and something to be jealous of; and jealously guarded in return. It took him a moment to realize he had made a great jump between the elvenking's hair and the elvenking himself.

"Do you need something?"

Thorin's attention snapped to his father and he realized he was speaking to him. He straightened up, trying not to think about having been caught gazing at his father's lover. "Your king requests your presence, father."

"I'll be up in just a moment." Thrain rose from the pillows, waving Thorin off and going to his clothing. Thranduil was smirking among his place in the sheets, still lying there in his naked glory. Thorin averted his eyes.

"You can go about your duties," Thrain assured him as he brushed passed. Thorin's eyes lingered on the elf longer than he meant to. He turned his head away and shuffled his feet. Without his father to urge him away, to keep his eyes to himself, he was nothing but a lecher and a voyeur.

"Do you covet me, prince under the mountain?" Thranduil mused as he rose from the pillows, his body arching like a tame cat's and his golden tresses falling over his shoulders. He looked like a hot mess, without the mess.

"My father is prince under the mountain," Thorin muttered under his breath as he turned away. He gasped as he saw Thranduil's hand reaching out to him, out of the corner of his eyes. He dodged the touch that sought him. "I am third in line, only."

"You are still a prince." Thranduil had not bothered to praise himself with clothing, standing beside Thorin in his natural state. He tempted Thorin, tempted him with his body oozing sex and promises of pleasure. The elf was his bane, as he towered above him, the elf was his nightmare and his dream. He shuddered and turned away once more. "You have not yet answered me, Thorin son of Thrain."

"I do not covet my father's lover, elvenking. I have duties. I bid you clothe and meet my father later, after his conference with His Majesty the King." Thorin stepped away to escape Thranduil's grasp; if only for just a moment.

He could feel Thranduil's eyes on him as he trudged down the hall, hoping that the elvenking did as he bid and left him alone. His temptation was enough when he wasn't paying Thorin any attention, he didn't need it tenfold when he did pay him words.

\-----

Thranduil tortured him by his mere presence, so Thorin avoided him.

Thranduil tempted him with his words, so he never spoke to him.

The elf was a source of heartache and he wanted to avoid that. He never wanted to see the elf again, and he _craved_ the elvenking. He shuddered whenever he thought of his slender form, his hair cascading down his shoulders with that single pleat of neat braid that hung over his sinuous back.

Even over his father's sign of ownership did nothing to quell the desire in his loins. If anything it merely enhanced it. It set a fire in his belly to know that his father _claimed_ the elf, to see that his father was marking Thranduil as his own. It made him want him more.

And oh, Thranduil _knew_ it. He knew it and he tortured Thorin with his games. He would invite Thorin in, despite how naked he was, he would speak to him in that sultry voice, tempt him and coddle him with his tones. The dwarf often had to excuse himself in the middle of conversations.

There were moments when he thought, _'Doesn't that elf ever go home?'_

Of course Thranduil went home, but it was quite obvious he enjoyed his time in Erebor. Why wouldn't he? There was feasting, good company and sex. Thror was too busy lusting after his gold and securing much more of it to tell his son and prince to stop goofing off with an elf, and Thorin was left to pick up the pieces of his father's reputation- and his own.

"You seem troubled, Thorin, son of Thrain." It made Thorin's gut clench to hear his father's name on the lips of the elf- he knew far too much of how often he screamed it.

"You would be troubled too if your father was cavorting with an elf."

Chortling, the elvenking took a seat beside the dwarf. Thorin was even surprised to say that he had clothes on this time. Though it was little more than a robe. "Oropher cavorted with many elves in his time, son of Thrain."

"You know what I mean." Thorin sucked in a breath, glimpsing at the elf in his beauty. He was in a thin robe, easily seen through at some parts as it draped over his body, clinging to it. "Are you cold, elvenking?"

"I do not feel the cold, son of Thrain." Thranduil touched his wrist and guided him to touch his arm, and then his side. He offered no words to accompany his actions.Thorin trembled, thinking about the elvenking's flesh, supple and pale, beneath the robes.

He yanked his hand away. "Then why do you bother to seek warmth?"

"Is this about your father once more? I seek warmth from him because I enjoy it. Is it so bad for me to do so? He is a prince and I am a king, we could wed if it were needed." But they both knew that would never happen. "Are you spiteful because I have taken the place of a loved one?"

Thorin rose to his feet, feeling this was going to take a turn for the worst. He knew exactly where this was going to go, and he didn't want to stick around for it.

"I have heard him speak of a woman- I can assume she was your mother?" Thorin froze up, squeezing his eyes shut. That was, by far, one of the things he _least_ wanted to talk about. "Come sit with me, son of Thrain. I wish to speak with you about these things. I know very little of your family, besides what is immediately obvious to me."

"There is a reason for that."

"Was she lost to you?"

There was silence, thick and uncomfortable, before Thorin resumed his seat on the stone bench and nodded to the elf. "Slain in an orc raid. We do not wish to speak of it. My brother and sister were far too young to remember."

"You must have been young as well."

"Very."

"And you remember?"

"Every moment."

Thranduil spent the following moments examining and admiring Thorin, his piercing eyes searching deep within the dwarf's soul. "You must be young now, even. Under a century? You are but a babe."

"I am an adult in the eyes of my people."

"My son is close to your age, and he still wandering the halls in wonder, babbling for a mug of milk. He is but a toddler, Thorin." The first time Thranduil had said his name alone. It made him shiver. "You are but a toddler as well, in my eyes. Naive and childish in the ways of the world."

"Wouldn't you rather be at home with your son?" Thorin's teeth grit together, trying not to think about the fact that he was being compared to Thranduil's only son. That he was being compared to a _babe_.

"Of course I would. But I am not above taking advantage of your father's well meaning hospitality. Perhaps next time you could venture out of Erebor and visit me for a change. I could let you meet my son."

"You mean my father."

"Hm?"

"You mean my father could visit you for a change."

"I suppose if he would like to come too that would be permitted."

Thorin felt his heart stop inside his chest, as he heard the elf add on. He was _invited_ , but Thrain was _permitted_ to come. "You honor me, elvenking, but I think you would invite my father and permit me."

"I did not misspeak." Thranduil rose to his feet and turned, his robes swirling around him like an endless pool of white, thin against his milky skin. "I implore you, son of Thrain… Accept my offer."

Thorin had a feeling there was a lot more than just one offer being made there.

\-----

Mirkwood unnerved the young prince.

He shifted awkwardly and glanced around himself as hey sat in the banquet hall, the food set out before them all. His father was there, of course, as was his grandfather, and many other dwarves who sought after a change in scenery for a day or two.

Thorin stared down at the food they were given, though he could hardly call it food. Not a single leg of meat; and he knew that the elves weren't vegan, because he had seen them making merry in the woods just outside of Erebor's borders, and he had seen Thranduil gladly engage in a good ibex steak when he visited. This was to torment them and he knew it.

Thror was too busy telling tales of his treasure trove to many other dwarves and elves to notice the way Thranduil and Thrain doted upon each other.

But Thorin noticed. He noticed the way that Thrain tugged at Thranduil's hair, threading innocent braids into them and pulling him in for their lips to nearly touch. Thorin had to look away, imagining how much they were exposing to everyone else.

Thorin had to excuse himself when he saw the elf braiding his father's beard, disappearing without having eaten a single bite of dinner. He preferred to wander alone.

He wandered among the gardens and glanced out at the forest, wondering what might lay out there. Nothing good, it seemed, considering the elves had such a high wall to separate them from it. Many of the elf guards only spared him one glance, or none at all.

Thranduil found him, of course, as he usually happened to do.

"You left the feast, son of Thrain," he hummed as he took a seat on the bench beside Thorin. He had a playful tone to his voice, teasing the dwarf; playing with him. "Are you missing your home land? It is only one day's ride from the mountain, you know."

"I would not leave my father and king here alone."

"You do not trust us?" As sketchy as the elves of the woodland realm could be at times, they were still fair folk, and that meant good folk.

"I do not trust anyone."

A wry smile was on Thranduil's lips. "You must hate how much time alone I spend with your father."

_'I hate how much time alone he spends with_ you.'

Thorin thought it so loud inside his head it felt as if he'd screamed it out loud. He couldn't bare to look at the elvenking. Especially not the courting braids that now adorned each side of the elf's face. The braids his father had put there.

"I am tired of dancing around you, son of Thrain." Thranduil rose to his feet and stood before the dwarf. "I can see your eyes linger on me, I have even tried to engage you, but you refuse to come close. Do you not wish to cross the threshold that I am providing?"

"I would not steal my father's lover."

"Who calls it stealing?"

"That is what it is, to covet someone else's lover… Especially your father's." Thorin rose as well, coming toe to toe with the elvenking. He can feel the warmth from him. As much as Thranduil claimed not to feel the cold, or even the warmth at times, he could feel it coming off of him. And he wanted it. "And were I to embellish the idea with your lovely face I could not say that I would ever stop. If I were to indulge once that would be my undoing, and forever stamp me as a traitor to my own kin."

"But you would still like to indulge."

It wasn't a question. Thorin nearly crumpled under the force of the unamused gaze that Thranduil now shot at him. "I would indulge you longer than would be healthy for me." He reached up and he almost saw the elvenking flinch away form him. He managed to grasp one of the courting braids in his golden tresses. "I would indulge, despite the fact you carry my father's courting braids, and his mark of ownership, in your hair."

Thranduil was nearly amused. The look on his face tortured Thorin more than his voice, if it were possible. He touched Thorin's wrist, fingers curling around it. "And I would have you indulge in me for as long as you so like. For I am not held down by any lover, any relationship. Your father knows of this, and he knows I have taken other lovers in my time with him."

"But would he allow his own son to steal away a lover even he does not own?" A mark of ownership upon a lover who didn't even adhere to it.

"Would anyone allow it so?"

The urge to throw the elvenking down was greater than it had ever been before. The urge to have his thighs pressed against his chest and ankles crossed behind his head, able to push his whiskers against the supple skin and pretend it was his to touch and defile… He turned away, taking steps away from the elf.

"I would not do that to him. Return to my father's side, elvenking. And whatever other lovers you may have."

\-----

Thranduil would be his ruin.

Whenever he saw the elf there were always new braids in his hair. Of course, lately, he only ever saw him after months of going without. But after one night he could see new braids, braids of courtship, braids of love, braids of pleasure… Braids that hadn't been there before. His father seemed to be moving further into his affair with the elvenking, and it tore at Thorin's heart to know that Thranduil was not faithful.

It angered him. And it angered him even more to know that he could have the elf if he so wanted.

And at the same time Thranduil seemed to be moving closer to Thrain at the same time. The months they went apart from each other seemed to make the fondness grow. Thorin couldn't stand being in the same room for long.

The further he stayed from the elvenking the hungrier he grew for him. It burned in his loins and twisted his gut and he found himself coming in at inopportune moments on purpose now, just to catch a glimpse at the elf's slender spine and supple backside. His father was becoming much less casual of letting people see him with the elf in such a state of undress.

Thranduil was in the other room, just beside his chambers, and he couldn't touch him. Thorin found himself pleasuring his own body to the thoughts of the elvenking, something he had never thought or dared to do before. He had stayed his hand long enough, and now he couldn't stop himself from doing so at least twice a day.

When sent by his father to fetch Thranduil for the evening feast he found himself freezing up. He would be alone with the elf. And he wanted it.

Thranduil was bare when he came into the chambers. Of course he was bare. He shuddered, the elvenking's back to him, as he tried to find his voice.

"The feast is beginning," he whispered, coming closer as he noticed the elf tugging braids loose from his hair. No doubt the most recent. Thranduil didn't acknowledge him. "Are you coming or will I inform my father you would rather stay here?"

The elvenking finally glanced over his shoulder at Thorin. His hair was tossed over his shoulder and he reached for his crown, setting it atop his head. Dressed in nothing but a crown… Thorin felt he might let his mouth water if he were a less cultured dwarf.

"Leave me. I will come down to the feast momentarily." Something in Thranduil's tone struck a chord in Thorin's chest, watching the elf reach for his robes and tug it loosely over his shoulders.

"For once is it not I who is troubled when we are together?" He was still very troubled, but Thorin could see it on Thranduil's face, how bored he was, and beneath that, he was _upset_.

"My troubles are none of your concern, dwarf."

That was the first time Thranduil hadn't called him by some name of a sort. Now it was just _dwarf_. He quelled the anger in his chest, a bitter taste in his throat, as he took a seat on his father's bed beside the elvenking. "Tell me, _elf_ ," he demanded, voice slipping into a hiss, "You've invaded my mind more times than I can count on my own troubles. What is one time I could not return the favor?"

"I am not willing to speak with you of them," Thranduil snapped back immediately. He tugged his robes closed and rose to his feet. "We should head to the feast."

Thorin didn't budge, only grasping the elf's wrist and yanking him back down. "Let me be, son of Thrain."

"Don't say his name."

His blood boiled, thinking of his father. His father, able to freely touch the elf and have him in any way he so desired… And then there was Thorin, _pining_. His stomach knotted up, just thinking about his father touching Thranduil. He thought of the last time he had walked in on them, the elvenking atop his father, hips rolling down, his back arched and hair wild… He wanted that for himself.

A selfish need rose up in him and he shoved Thranduil down while barely thinking, only knowing he wanted the elf _beneath_ him. He spent so much time in the air above him, hovering, he wanted Thranduil in the sheets of his father's bed, to be ruined by him.

"Thorin-" He couldn't stand the sound of his voice anymore. He pinned the elf and pressed his wrists against the sheets, his knees moving on either side of him.

"Don't speak," he murmured, a knee coming between Thranduil's thighs to grind into him and make the elvenking grimace and squeeze his eyes shut. To block him out. "Look at me." He paused, his hands sliding up to Thranduil's shoulders. "Please look at me, elvenking."

Thranduil's eyes fluttered open and he could see mischief in there. Had he planned this? It made blood rush in his ears as he straddled him, face coming down until their noses touched and his whiskers brushed against the elf's jaw. "In the woodlands you asked me if I would indulge… And I wish to do just that."

"What if I am not in the mood for your indulgence?" There was something in his voice that didn't completely assure Thorin that he meant it. There was a voice nagging in the back of his head telling him to stop, and another than was urging him on. His hand trembled as he spread the elvenking's robes from his chest, until he could smooth his palm across his milky chest.

"You have always been in the mood, elvenking. Don't lie to me." That voice was acting up again. He quelled it and leaned down once more, his beard brushing Thranduil's bare chin and pressed their foreheads to one another. "I would ruin you, here, on his sheets. In his place, to make you forget him."

"You do not want me to speak his name, but we may still speak of him?" Thranduil's fingers curled around his throat and Thorin found himself choking merely because of the contact.

"Not any further," Thorin whispered as he joined their lips and their bodies together, yanking Thranduil's legs up around his hips. He wanted Thranduil to know who he belonged to, even if it was Thrain's braids in his hair. Even if they were in his father's bed, even if it wasn't his lover… Thranduil would recognize that it was _Thorin_ fucking him, and he would enjoy it.

"Must I rebuke you, son of Thrain?" Thranduil murmured under his breath as he tilted his head down, breaking their kiss and leering at the dwarf through hooded eyes. "I am not in the mood to play with you."

" _I_ am in the mood, but not to play." Thorin was relentless, keeping the elvenking pinned down. He necked down his throat, nipping and leaving small indents in his flesh. His hands roamed, tugging at the robe that was draped over Thranduil's body and leaving him bare against the sheets and under Thorin's body. "I am going to ruin you, just as I said."

The elvenking looked about to refuse him, only to be cut off by Thorin's lips once more, and the feeling of a thick shaft being released from trousers, pressed against his thigh.

There was little more refusal from Thranduil, though Thorin could feel the way he pressed against his chest and pushed his knees together to guard himself. There was a voice in the back of his head telling him no, telling him to stop, but another part of him knew Thranduil wanted it, another part of him knew he couldn't stop anymore.

The way they moved together, the way Thranduil clamped down on him and tossed his head back with a gasp, his hair like a sea of silk and gold around him, the way he looked up with hazy eyes and lips parted into a little 'o.' Thorin had to close his eyes, knowing if he looked then he would lose himself completely. He would lose any hope of returning to his sanity after this.

Guilt rendered him motionless for a moment. He was shaking, and when he glanced down at the elvenking, lips wet with saliva and drool slipping down the corner of his mouth, his body arching up and his thighs twitching with spasms of pleasure… The guilt disappeared. He deserved this; Thranduil _wanted_ him, Thranduil had egged him on. He _deserved_ to claim him as his own. His father had no right to be entitled to the elf.

He could feel long lines stinging over his back, from where Thranduil was clawing and digging into his flesh. It felt amazing, to _feel_ the elvenking along his flesh, round him, scratching him and making it so much more real. The feeling of Thranduil's thighs holding tight to him as his hips pistoned in and out, their bones grinding together, everything was perfect. In that moment, Thorin knew he had found nirvana.

That was, until one of the chambermaids opened the door and caught them.

Thorin gaped, all movements coming to a stop. Thranduil was at loss for words as well, and Thorin noticed him trying to form them, though nothing came out.

"I- I apologize- your- the-" The dwarf backed away and Thorin shot up, sitting up straight and locking eyes with them.

"You will not speak of this to the prince," he lashed out, pointing an accusing finger. "You will mention this to _no one_. And if you do, you will find yourself at the end of an axe. Now leave us, and close the door."

The dwarf hurried off, the door shut in his wake. Thorin crumpled now that there was no one to reprimand, and found Thranduil cupping his cheeks and pushing him back up. "Elvenking-"

"You handled that well." Thranduil brushed a lock of his own hair behind his ear. "But now you have much more important matters to attend to."

Thorin's heart was racing. "I will _not_ -"

"I meant me, Thorin."

An embarrassed flush took over his features, but he distracted from it by kissing the elf instead, already moving again.

Thorin couldn't manage to find that piece of nirvana once more, but it damn well felt good anyway. To be able to finally have something he had lusted after, to finally have the person he had needed since he couldn't have him.

His end was reached with a mighty roar, and Thranduil's with nothing but a gentle keen with their limbs wrapped around each other and their orgasms complimenting the other.

Thorin opened his eyes to Thranduil leaning over him, curling some of his hair around his fingers.

"What are you doing?" he rasped, feeling sore and achy. The elvenking smirked, still playing with his hair.

"You passed out. Was I truly too much for you, son of Thrain?" Thorin flinched as he heard his father's name. He noticed the elf's fingers weaving through his hair. "You amuse me, you know. I barely had to pretend about anything just to have you 'force' me."

"You were pretending?"

"Of course I was. I would never be forced so easily."

"What are you doing?" he murmured, eyes tracing along the slender fingers that tied in his fine hair. That braid was significantly familiar… "Where did you learn to make those?"

"Your father taught me. He said I should know, if I was to be courted by him," Thranduil teased, finishing the braid and then moving to make a mirror of it on the other side of Thorin's face.

Thorin tensed as he thought of his father, how he had betrayed him, _stolen_ from him… And he realized he didn't care. When the elvenking finished with his second braid he sat up and turned the elf around. "I have braids for you as well…"

He flipped Thranduil's hair up and began to work with the second layer of hair, beneath the one on top. He braided it intricately, then made a second, and then laced them together. He reached for some of the beads that his father kept at the side of the bed and finished it off.

"What do they mean?" Thranduil mused as he flipped his hair back down, smoothing it over. "No one can see them."

"That is the point of them." Thorin hesitated as he slid a hand over Thranduil's silk hair, shuddering at the feeling under his palm. "No one sees them. A forbidden courtship."

Thranduil looked amused. He didn't say anything, instead gathering up his robes and donning them. "We should get to the feast." He left first, leaving Thorin to follow after a few minutes later.

When he took his seat, across from his father and Thranduil, Thror noticed the courtship braids in his hair and teased him. Thorin chose to ignore it, knowing that in his silence he could be smug about the fact that he had stolen his father's lover.

He watched as his father's hand ventured up, until it touched the back of Thranduil's head. And he watched him freeze, right over where the braids were, underneath that braid of ownership that laid right on top of Thorin's own mark. Their eyes met, an intense moment between them, until Thorin finally managed a smug smirk.


End file.
